


New Year's Eve

by BambooCanoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Accidental Voyeurism? Loosely?, Destiel - Freeform, Drunk Castiel (Supernatural), First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, definitely adorable, or just tipsy, party poppers aimed at or near the face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambooCanoe/pseuds/BambooCanoe
Summary: Dean's not celebrating New Year's in the rowdy bar across the street. Cas has discovered two new things he likes tonight, and he's about to discover a third.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	New Year's Eve

There were three reasons Dean wasn't going out there. 

One, it was goddamn cold. He was quite warm where he was and didn't much care for the thought of that heat leaching away on the walk from the motel to the raucous bar across the street. 

Two, a packed room full of buzzed strangers meant he had to turn on the charm, and he just didn't feel very charming after such a long fucking day. Plus, the collar of his coat wasn't quite high enough to hide the stinging scar angry across the back of his neck, just cutting into the hairline, and he'd be happy to avoid the cheeky improv that curious eyes required. The gash was a souvenir from the hunt, just par for the damn course. Bitch had dragged him across the scrap-laden floor of the workshop and thrown him into a bench before Cas got her beneath the shoulder blades. Dean was still acutely aware of his back and all the ways in which it smarted, so, better he just continue to laze around here on his stomach. 

And three, he had no one to kiss. Sam went with Eileen, and Cas probably didn't know, or if he did, _care_ about the silly human tradition. Dean could probably find a pair of lips to accommodate him easy, but, see previous note regarding charm. Anyway, it was much nicer when the person attached to the lips actually meant something, actually understood he was a lot more than just green-eyed and gorgeous, and might be someone he'd ever see again after tonight, so. Fuck that shit six ways from Sunday. 

Dean took another swig from his borderline-lukewarm beer. The television set across the room was turned way down, but he could still hear the obnoxious tv-host commentary from Times Square. He rolled his eyes and turned the volume all the way down as yet another over-performed pop song began, all flash and empty lyrics. Dropping his head, he absently touched cool fingers to the stinging seam across the back of his head.  
  
There was a subtle wooshing sound, the familiar snap of feathers, and then a body sat down heavily on the end of the mattress, jostling him. Dean raised his head to find Cas, missing his trench coat and with his tie almost completely pulled apart, hiking one knee up onto the mattress to face him.   
"Dean. Look." He said, and tugged on something small and blue in his hands. There was a pop, and shredded paper streamers settled down over Dean's head like snow. He raised his eyebrows, mouth pinched so the Dimples of Distaste were on full display. Cas laughed in the way that still reminded Dean of pulled fingers and blown lightbulbs.   
"Having fun?" Dean said, shaking his head to dislodge the confetti. Cas reached out and brushed the colorful shreds from Dean's hair and shoulders, that bright, boyish humor still dancing in his eyes. Dean knocked his hand away and shifted to sit up at the end of the bed, definitely _not_ to disguise a shiver.   
"Jesus. What'd Sam make you try this time?" He grumbled.   
"[A Short Trip To Hell.](https://bevvy.co/cocktail/a-short-trip-to-hell/hhza)"  
Dean almost sprayed his swig of beer. "Bitch thinks he's _funny_ , huh?"   
"They were quite good."  
"How many is 'they'?"  
"Six." Cas reached into his suit jacket and placed an assorted handful of party poppers in Dean's lap.   
"Stealing, angel?"   
"Sharing." Cas corrected. "Try one."   
"Thanks, I'm familiar."   
"Don't be a grinch."   
"It's New Year's, not Christmas."  
Cas answered by detonating a green party popper at him reproachfully. When Dean blinked open his eyes, a shred of pink streamer stayed, tangled in his eyelashes. He tried to blow it loose with a puff of air. Cas smiled and brushed the pad of his thumb softly over Dean's eyelid, skimming his lashes, the top of his cheek. When Dean looked at him again, Cas' eyes were following the starry scatter of freckles along his cheek, up to his hairline, down past his nose. His cheeks were still slightly drink-pink. It made his blue eyes look brighter.   
The murmur of constant din coming from across the street suddenly gathered into a loud, collective chant of raised voices.  
  
_TEN!  
  
_Cas met Dean's eyes. He was close enough that Dean could see his pupils flex, affected by the shift in the manner of noise.   
  
_NINE!_  
  
Dean glanced at the tv across the room. All focus was up on the glittering ball now, flashing and winking in its slow descent towards the four digits below.   
  
_EIGHT!  
_  
"Better get back over there. You're missing the best part." Dean said.   
  
_SEVEN!_  
  
"What do you mean?"  
"Y'know, the countdown." Dean said, gesturing to the tv with his beer.   
  
_SIX!_  
  
"I can see it fine from here." Cas said, dropping both feet to the floor to face the television. His knee bumped against Dean's. Something small and warm lit behind Dean's ribs, like a pilot light.   
"Suit yourself." He said.   
  
_FIVE!  
_  
He swirled the last dregs of his beer at the bottom of the bottle, tossed it back, and set the empty bottle aside on the thin motel carpet.   
  
_FOUR!_  
  
Cas grabbed Dean's wrist and pressed one of the party poppers into his hand with an expression that dared him to try to argue again. Dean rolled his eyes, picked up another and wrapped both strings around his finger, aiming the double-barreled confetti cannon up towards Cas' chin.   
  
_THREE!_  
  
Cas' eyes lifted from the poppers to Dean's face. 

_TWO!  
  
_Dean gave him a wicked grin. 

_ONE!_

  
***POP***  
The chemical whiff of the charges tickled Dean's nose. The streamers caught in the front of Cas' shirt, gently tumbling into his lap.   
There was one stuck to his lip. 

  
**_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ **

  
Shit. Dean was looking at Cas' mouth, obvious as anything, with Cas looking right back at him.   
"You, uh." Dean said articulately, pointing to his own mouth in the universal sign of _you've got something on you_. He saw Cas' eyes flick to the tv, then he gave that little knowledgeable _oh_ he did when a nonverbal signal clicked. 

Cas leaned forward and kissed him. 

Dean froze. Cas didn't linger long, lips breaking from his with a small noise, and then Cas was looking at him, satisfaction falling to concern at Dean's expression.  
"What?"  
Dean reached out and plucked the streamer from Cas' lip, holding it up.   
" _Oh_. Dean, I -- "   
Dean's skin was still buzzing, his heart somewhere between his throat and where it was supposed to be. Cas was shifting away, trying to apologize, and how could Dean let him when all the tumblers were falling into place and releasing the lock on the fundamental _truth_ that this was what Dean had been waiting for, had been _wishing_ for, had been utterly convinced was impossible? And maybe it didn't mean anything to Cas, maybe Dean was just complicating yet another thing in his messy human way, but _fuck this long and stupid day_ , he didn't want to _think_ , and the window of opportunity was closing. He grabbed the front of Cas' shirt and pulled him in against his mouth.   
He tasted like fruit, like peaches and berries and the sharp tang of alcohol, it was simultaneously something so innocent yet absolutely _intoxicating_. Cas pressed closer, his hand sinking into the mattress next to Dean's hip, and Dean could feel the heat of his flushed cheeks and his shoulder where it pressed against his, the cool where they still _weren't_ close, just leaned into each other's spaces. Slowly, Dean wound Cas' tie around his hand, opened into the kiss, and _pulled_. 

  
Sam draped Cas' rescued trench coat over Eileen's shoulder, breaking away to creep up to Dean's motel room window, ready to bang on it and crow HAPPY NEW YEAR at the top of his voice. Eileen was already giggling when she saw Sam completely lock up, mouth agape. Her stomach tightened.  
"What?"  
Sam turned his wide eyes on her, his slack-jawed shock blooming into an excited grin. He gestured her over with an urgently flapping hand and pressed his finger to his lips, then pointed through the window.   
Past the motel divider wall, their shapes pale and shadowed by the flickering light of the television, two figures were sitting at the end of the bed, turned towards each other.   
No, more than that. Two figures were sitting at the end of the bed, _completely absorbed_ in one another.   
_Kissing_.   
Sam poked an elbow against Eileen's ribs, nothing but glee on every square inch of his face.   
_Finally_ , he mouthed, with a huge shaking gesture of clawed hands and comically widened eyes. Eileen laughed silently, nodding.   
In the room beyond, Cas swung a leg over to straddle Dean's lap, and Sam and Eileen both pushed each other away from the window in a frantic scramble that feared witnessing too much. 

They'd get Cas' coat back to him in the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: A Short Trip To Hell is served in a Collins glass 😏
> 
> Disclaimer: do NOT aim party poppers at people's faces, friends, it says so right there on the side but these delinquents can't fucking read,,
> 
> Happy first publically posted Supernatural fic to meeee, goodbye 2020 🎶


End file.
